


you and me go together like carrots and peas

by asgoriel



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Other, a good man, because they are the coolest yo, big-brother jeff, for the_names_of_those_who_love_the_lord, god i love em, jeff can see ghosts i guess, jeff's living with a ghost, little-sister sally, pure n sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 15:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11016243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asgoriel/pseuds/asgoriel
Summary: When Jeff comes home at night and hears Sally crying, it tears him up inside a little bit more.





	you and me go together like carrots and peas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_names_of_those_who_love_the_lord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_names_of_those_who_love_the_lord/gifts).



Jeff closes the front door behind him, knife slicked in blood, when he gets inside, praying that it won't make a sound and that it'll be easy to go to sleep tonight, and then sets down his weapon on the kitchen table. His prayer isn't answered that easily, though, 'cause immediately after, the padding of little socked feet against the hardwood floor rings in his ears, and he musters up a real smile on his face, hidden by the scars and tissue and flesh, and turns around and kneels down to intercept the little girl barreling towards him at full speed. (He can't really touch Sally, much less scoop her up in his dirty bloody arms and hug her, but he pretends like he can and ignores the chill spreading up his spine.)

"Jeff!" the ghost girl shrieks, jumping up and down and twirling around and dancing about. "You're back! Back-back-back! Didja get anything for me? Didja-didja-didja?"

"Yeah, sweetie, I did," Jeff says in that gravelly rough voice'a his, "but I can't show ya 'till you promise me ya got everything done tonight."

Sally nods so hard and fast that if she weren't dead, she'd break her own neck.

"Cleaned yourself up?"

Another nod.

"Brushed your teeth?"

'Nother one.

"Said your prayers?"

A furious head-banging.

"Good," Jeff praises. There's a little pang in his chest after listing all those off, because both'a them know that Sally's a ghost, Sally can't clean herself up or brush her teeth or say her prayers. 'Cause if she could do all that, it'd mean that Heaven was real and God was real and things that Jeff hadn't given a thought about were real and Sally could finally be happy. But God's not real, that disgusting bastard, and neither is his fucking son.

Sally ain't happy. She's still got dirt in her hair and on her dress, and there's always gonna be blood staining the carpets and kitchen floor, no matter how hard Jeff scrubs, and she's still gonna wail in her sleep and he's still gonna be too weak to finally take the unlabeled pills on his dresser–all of them, all at once–and end it all.

Jeff reaches his calloused hand into the pocket of his hoodie and feels soft, worn fur against his fingers, and pulls out the surprise. It's a stuffed brown teddy bear, with a velvet-red ribbon tied 'round its neck and beady black button eyes. Normally it woulda cost a fuckin' fortune at the local store, but one of Jeff's most recent victims had a little girl whose windpipe crushed real easy between his fingers, and that was where he'd found Sally's newest playtoy. Sally's squeal is the most painful noise he's ever heard, but her smile–with her knocked-out teeth and bruised, chapped lips–makes the agony all worth it.

Her dead green eyes, once the color of a new leaf, now the hue of a sluggish, moss-choked river, widen joyfully, and she claps her hands to her mouth and squeals in delight.

"A bear!" she shrieks. "A toy bear! Toy-toy-toy! Thank you, Jeff!"

God, Sally's so happy now. She really deserves it, the poor kid.

Jeff smiles and rips the head of the bear off and hands both pieces to her. It's basically a ritual now, because ghosts can't hold corporeal things for the life of 'em, and even though Jeff's real sure teddy bears ain't got hearts that beat and lungs that fill with air, he rips 'em apart and gives the dead pieces of stuffing to Sally. And then they gotta wait, and then the bear's all new again, and Sally can hold it. She grins a little wider and hugs the ghost of the stuffed animal close to her. "You're the best, Jeff! The best-best-best!" Jeff chuckles and chucks her under the chin. It's like trying to play with smoke.

"You know it, Sally-Bally. What'cha gon' call it?"

Sally brushes her dull brown hair back and thinks for a New York-minute, then says, "Charlie! I'm gonna call him Charlie!" The smile that Jeff gives her is painful, stretching his ruined skin and making his jaw stain with blood and breaking healing tendons and muscles, and he blinks away the tears in his eyes and says, "That's a great name, Sal."

"I know! Thank you, Jeff!"

She leans up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on his rough cheek. The smell of blood and twigs and the forest envelops him, and it's strong, like a musk. He appreciates the pretend-kiss, though, even if the ghost girl don't think it's pretend.

"It's my pleasure, Sally-Bally. Now go off to bed; it's late." At his words, she scampers away to her room, still beaming.

Jeff doesn't know if ghosts can sleep or not or what, but he doesn't think it too much. He gets up, hissing at the pain his aching legs give him as he stands up, takes off his dirty hoodie, and lopes over to the couch to sleep. There are more bedrooms in the house, but Jeff never sleeps in them. It'd feel like an unwanted invitation in this place; it's just best to let the beds and dressers turn into the relics they are.

He's been living in Sally's home since he was on the run–(since 2002? 2003? The numbers and dates are all muddled up in his head)–and he was really surprised, and kinda pleased an' relieved too, when Sally welcomed him in with bloody broken arms. Turns out she was just lonely, a lonely little dead kid floating around her dead house long after everyone else packed up and went away, and Jeff was an adult who was lonely, too. Sure, he was a crazy convicted murderer who could see the dead and had struck up conversations with Jeffrey Dahmer and Alexander Hamilton since he could talk, and this was perfect.

Since then, it was Jeff and Sally, Sally and Jeff, and they were okay with being lonely together. Jeff was okay with watching over Sally-Bally and making her feel more human, and Sally-Bally was okay with hanging around Jeff and making him feel like he was doin' some good.

Life wasn't the best for a dead little girl and her 'big brother', per se, but it was slowly tipping over onto something that felt like good and tasted like home and great.

And that was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> the whole thing is one freakin' paragraph 'cause i copied it from my account on wattpad 
> 
> thanks wattpad


End file.
